


A Prince and Mage

by Dmitri_Aspen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst and Feels, Gen, M/M, hinted romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dmitri_Aspen/pseuds/Dmitri_Aspen
Summary: Sigurd and Eiríkur were supposed to bring Prince Matthias back home for a trial for treason. However, when Sigurd does meet Matthias, it doesn’t go anywhere close to as planned.[Based off of the path of Birthright in Fire Emblem Fates.]





	A Prince and Mage

**Author's Note:**

> Sigurd is Norway, Eiríkur is Iceland, and Matthias is Denmark.

Sigurd and Eiríkur sit at the campfire, silently munching on the salmon they managed to catch. The two have a small camp set up by Prince Matthias’s camp. The two are looking capture the prince to bring him back to their kingdom to be trialed for treason. Eiríkur stares at his older brother, wondering about the strange floating curl that hover by the side of his head. Sigurd has always changed the subject whenever Eiríkur brought it up.

The fire’s orange light casts a strangely soothing look onto Sigurd’s pale blond hair. The younger’s eyes start drooping and he hunches over. The fire’s warmth and a full stomach for once is making the assassin sleepy. He can barely make out Sigurd’s loving smile as his eyes close.

Sigurd smiles at his dozing brother. He stands up from where he sat on the ground, groaning softly as he stretches his legs after sitting for some time. Eiríkur’s practically snow white hair proudly reflects the warm orange light. The older absentmindedly pats Eiríkur’s head. His eyes briefly open, looking up with a bleary violet hue before falling shut again. Eiríkur mumbles something unintelligible under his breath and moves to lie on his side, curling into himself.

Sigurd mutters a incantation to dim the fire’s light and retain its heat. He walks from the makeshift camp, towards the stream where they got the salmon they cooked for dinner. He grabs the dagger from its holster, twirling it in his hand. The metal blade shines in the what moonlight seeps through the trees above Sigurd. He can hear the stream calmly passing by, the sound soothing to Sigurd’s ears. He isn’t too sure why he came here, but something tells him to remain here for who knows what. He sits on the grass by the stream, digging his heels into the soft mud right next to the water.

The stream rolls past, the soft noises prompting Sigurd to lie back and close his eyes. The cool, gentle breeze passing by is soothing, briefly reminding him of his home back in the tundras of the north. The water brings back memories of the vast ocean that he and his father would set out upon for hunting.

There’s a crunch in the brush nearby, and Sigurd jumps to a sitting position, hastily reaching for his knife and checks for the tome that is hidden under his fur jacket. He stumbles as he stands up, glancing around for any signs of movement. For a few minutes, there’s dead silence except for the usual sounds of nature.

Suddenly, a man with all too familiar wild blond hair leaps from the woods, staggering into the stream as he tries to stop himself. Sigurd’s hand goes under his coat in search of the tome. When he finds it, he yanks it out and holds it in front of him, the pages flipping open on their own as Sigurd murmurs barely audible spells. He drops the dagger in favor of holding a rapidly glowing sphere of green fire.

“Prince Matthias.” Sigurd starts, taking a few steps forward.

Matthias looks up, clearly startled. Once he realizes who he’s seeing, Matthias’s face breaks out into a broad smile. “Sigurd! It’s great to see you!”

“You realize what you’ve done, right?” Sigurd’s voice wavers ever so slightly. Matthias frowns, turning his head downwards and closing his eyes.

Matthias is suddenly somber, all previous signs of joy gone in seconds.

“You abandoned your family. Eiríkur has cried himself to sleep on Gods know how many nights, Tino is distraught, and Berwald is taking your place as king. Remember how you always said you’d be the King of the North? Thanks to you leaving, that dream is fading away.” Sigurd growls, the flame glowing brighter as he takes another step closer. Matthias flinches, meeting Sigurd’s eyes with pure, unadulterated fear and concern.

“No, Sigurd, please say you’re lying.” Matthias’s face is broken, eyes clouding up with tears. Sigurd clenches his jaw, casting his arm to the side and forcing the flame to dissipate. He can’t stare at Matthias’s bright blue eyes anymore, forcing himself to stare at the ground below him. The hand holding to tome trembles and the book falls with a thud.

“ _I_ missed you, Matthias. We did so much.” Sigurd’s body trembles with the sobs he’s holding back. He brings a hand up to his face, covering his eyes to hide the inevitable tears. “We hunted, we cooked, we tricked our family. We were unstoppable together. Then, all because someone else said you were their brother, you destroyed everything,” his voice raises into a yell, voice thick with sobs.

Matthias stares at Sigurd, mouth open in shock. He has never seen Sigurd this broken before. Sure, he’s seen the mage shed several tears in their past years, but this was far worse than any of that. The prince reaches his hand out, slowly walking towards the mage. As soon as he could, Matthias enveloped Sigurd into a hug. The mage doesn’t react right away, but ends up hugging the prince back, burying his face in prince’s shoulder. Matthias sighs, running his fingers through Sigurd’s hair. Sigurd can’t hold the tears back anymore, and he ends up sobbing into Matthias’s cloak. Matthias, too, cries. He didn’t know he was causing such damage to his family.

“Sigurd, I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-” Matthias stutters out, hold on Sigurd tightening. Sigurd weakly hits Matthias’s chest, mumbling something into the cloth of the prince’s coat.

Sigurd pulls away from Matthias. “Idiot, just come home,” he grumbles. Matthias feels a great pain in his chest as he stares at Sigurd’s tear-streaked face.

“I can’t, Sigurd. I can’t go home after all I’ve done.” Matthias rubs Sigurd’s back briefly before releasing him and stepping away. He smiles somberly before turning to walk away. Sigurd stands there, staring at Matthias’s back. Once the prince is gone, Sigurd falls to his knees and cries out to the Gods to allow Matthias to return home with no consequences.


End file.
